


and the future's a distant shore

by yosgay



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: First Kiss, High School, M/M, Studying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21505714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yosgay/pseuds/yosgay
Summary: “Study sesh tonight? My place?”Prompto perks up. If he’s honest, he wasn’t exactly planning to cram for this one. But at this point, he’ll take any Noct time he can get.“You know it,” he says, excitement edging into his voice. “I got the snacks, buddy.”One sleepy eyebrow ticks up. “And the books, right?”And Prompto snorts so loud the whole room looks their way.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 7
Kudos: 176





	and the future's a distant shore

**Author's Note:**

> this was my piece for the insomnia high [promptis zine!](https://twitter.com/InsomniaHigh)  
> so excited to finally post this bro  
> i love everyone

Prompto doesn’t even have to check the grade to know he bombed yesterday’s exam. 

It’s the look on the teacher’s face when he hands it back, a backwards glance pinched with disappointment. It’s the way he slides it on the desk face-down to save him embarrassment, quickly moving on to the next student.

Yeah, Prompto doesn’t even want to know.

He’s already stuffed the offending paper into his bag without even a peek, just like the last two. Well, it’s not like he has parent-teacher conferences to worry about, anyway.

In front of him, Noct peeks over his shoulder, bored and curious.

He nods his chin. “How’d you do?”

Prompto flashes his teeth, a bright smile. “You know me, dude. Aced it.”

“If I know you,” Noct shoots back, “that means a C at best.”

Prompto coughs up a laugh. Probably worse, actually. The last few semester grades have been a far cry from what they used to be in grade school—all those gold stars up on the fridge, waiting for someone to ruffle his hair and praise him. 

He’s been waiting for that for a pretty long time, actually. 

“You got me,” says Prompto, and Noct cracks a smile. 

“One more exam left,” he says. “Ancient Lucian History.”

Prompto hums. “Bummer,” and man, he really means it.

They’ve barely hung out in weeks. Seems like Noct’s nothing but busy lately, one meeting after another as the school year draws to a close. It used to be that graduation couldn’t get here fast enough. But now when Prompto thinks about life after high school, the only Noct he sees is on TV, giving some royal speech with guards at his back.

The Noct in front of him yawns, deep and indulgent. He rests his head on crossed arms, draping himself over the seatback. 

He asks, “Study sesh tonight? My place?”

Prompto perks up. If he’s honest, he wasn’t exactly planning to cram for this one. But at this point, he’ll take any Noct time he can get. 

“You know it,” he says, excitement edging into his voice. “I got the snacks, buddy.”

One sleepy eyebrow ticks up. “And the books, right?”

And Prompto snorts so loud the whole room looks their way.

* * *

Prompto’s never been good with tight spaces.

There was the time the four of them went camping just outside the wall, the peak of last summer vacation. Best trip ever, until one impromptu spelunking adventure. Prompto’s still got a tiny scar on his palm, a slice from sharp rock when he felt pressed in on all sides, bailing faster than a spooked chocobo. Gladio’ll never let him live _that_ one down.

And okay, maybe right now is nothing like that.

Noct’s apartment doesn’t hold a candle to the panic that rises in Prompto’s chest when the walls are _actually_ caving in. But it still feels like there’s textbooks and notepads and multi-colored highlighters penning him in, dooming him to a night of learning.

They haven’t even made pizza yet.

Prompto’s ready to start pouting.

But instead, he takes another stab at Noct’s question.

“First queen was…” he trails off, squeezing his eyes shut til he sees spots. “She was The Wise, right?”

Noct makes a noise like a buzzer on a gameshow. “Nope. Wrong again.”

Prompto makes a noise like a dying anak. “Uuugh. Dude, this is too hard.”

They’ve gone over these questions about a hundred times, and Prompto can’t find a way to make them stick. It’s like his brain is the world’s dumbest firewall—nothing useful gets in _or_ out. Prompto runs a finger along the arm of the couch. Back and forth, back, forth. The queen wasn’t the wise, she was… The Tall? No, that’s not right. _Gods_ , he’d rather go back to the math test at this point, and he’s pretty sure he bombed that one the hardest. 

Noct clicks his tongue. He takes a sip of some sleek-labeled energy drink with one hand, highlighting notes with another.

Prompto’s pressing a throw-pillow to his face and he’s inhaling deep, half to clear his head and half to fill it up with something better. Noct’s apartment always smells so _homey_ , like it’s one pot of coffee away from an open-house. Prompto’s gotten way too used to the stale, synthetic smell of convenience store air-fresheners.

Voice muffled into the fabric, Prompto says, “Who needs Lucian history, anyway?”

“I do, dumbass,” Noct mutters, tapping his pencil to some offbeat rhythm on the coffee table. “I should know this stuff already. She’s the Rogue, by the way.”

“Wonder what nickname they’ll give _you_ in the history books, buddy.”

Noct rolls his eyes. “The handsome, duh.”

It is kind of unfair how good he looks in the harsh spotlight of a cheap desk lamp, but there’s no way Prompto’s gonna say that out loud.

“More like the _sleepy_ ,” Prompto counters, and Noct flicks a pencil his way.

Prompto really does wonder what they’ll call him, though. And what kind of king he’ll be, when he’s older and wiser, no more time for arcades and junk food. 

“I’ll be the handsome,” says Noct, “and you can be my court jester.”

“At your service, _Highness_ ,” says Prompto, in his best Iggy impression.

And Noct laughs at first. It tapers off at the end, fading like smoke in a breeze. Maybe it’s Prompto’s imagination, but it’s like they’re both thinking of the same future. Seems like there’s always some kind of uncertainty hanging in the air like a brewing storm, and Noct stares back down at his work, not meeting Prompto’s eyes.

Prompto fidgets with his bracelets, restless fingers twitching. There’s more and more of these silences the last couple weeks. The few times they do hang out, Noct’s more distracted than usual. Prompto gets it. Really, he does. There’s finals nerves, graduation jitters, and—oh, yeah, plus a little thing called _being the prince_. 

Maybe there’s no way he gets that last one. But hey, Noct’s his best friend. The one thing Prompto’s best at is cheering him up.

Prompto cuts through the silence like popping a balloon when he says, “How about we take a break?”

“A break?” Noct says, with a slow blink. “Dude, we just started.”

Prompto shrugs, flashes a grin. “No sense studying on an empty stomach.”

Noct’s head tilts to the side in a thoughtful pout, and Prompto has to look away before he does something stupid, like blush.

“Hard to argue with that,” Noct sighs after a moment, with a crooked smile to match.

* * *

Veggie-lovers pizza with 5 alarm wing sauce might mean an extra miserable mile tomorrow morning, but it’s finally feeling more like the quality bro-time Prompto’s been missing. He’s flopped back on the couch, the dim light of the TV casting a warm glow on the living room. Noct’s plain slice sits half-eaten on the coffee table, nose back in his reading—and Prompto’s already got a controller in hand.

“Hey, you can’t touch those textbooks with greasy fingers, dude,” Prompto’s arguing, with litigious conviction. “They’ll make us like, pay for them or something.”

“I’m pretty sure I can afford it,” says Noct, eyes rolling up to show all white. “You just want to play the new Justice Monsters.”

“A mind reader!” says Prompto, mouth full of white-hot cheese and mushrooms. “Man, is there anything royalty _can’t_ do?”

“Pass a damn test, apparently,” says Noct, rubbing his temples.

Prompto waves him off, loading up their game progress.

“Aw, don’t worry about that,” he says. “You always pass.”

“Yeah, because I actually _study_ ,” Noct points out.

Prompto snorts, but yeah, Noct’s right.

It really has been awhile since Prompto put the effort in. Awhile since the long afternoons in the library, nose in the books. Staying until closing time, wringing every bullet point out of your notes until your memory’s a carbon copy. The A+ you take home to an empty house, the nerd branding if you show anybody at school, excitement wavering. Eventually, you choose between friends and grades. 

And if you’re Prompto, you make the wrong choice.

“Maybe you hit the books a little too hard sometimes, dude,” says Prompto, mildly. 

Noct looks up from his work, hand pressed to his mouth. “Not hard enough,” he says, clipped. “Got my first B this year. Shoulda seen Iggy’s face.”

“Only a B? Damn, I guess you’re the smart one.” He adds, “Guess that makes me the pretty one.”

The half-chuckle Noct gives is distracted, an edge of annoyance creeping up. He’s chewing that spot on the inside of his lip, the one that means he’s bottling it all up and tightening the cap. Prompto’s chest is a slow knot of worry, threads tangling themselves tighter with a mind of their own.

He jerks his thumb back, pointing towards the game’s pause screen. 

“I know what’ll cheer you up,” says Prompto. “Once we beat this boss, it’ll be like, a weight off your shoulders.”

Noct doesn’t look up from his reading, his pencil pressing hard to the paper.

“I gotta know this stuff,” Noct says, brittle as glass.

“Well, we gotta beat this level,” Prompto counters, bright as sunshine. 

Noct’s mouth is pressed into a thin line. “Do you know how it looks if I get an F in my own family’s history? Dad already thinks I don’t pay attention in meetings.”

Prompto’s laughing, “I mean, you don’t, though.”

And maybe it’s a jab too many, in just the wrong spot.

Noct doesn’t laugh. His jaw clenches, a single slow grind of his teeth. Prompto hates that look—the drawn, shuttered expression that hides him from the world like a closed window. When he gets like this, it reminds Prompto of before they were friends. Before they found each other. When Prompto had nobody, and nobody had Noct.

They’ve never been out of rhythm before. Never even had a fight. So when Noct scrapes his throat on a scoff and says, “Sorry some of us actually give a shit about our future,” Prompto could disappear right into the couch cushions. 

Noct’s face falls when he looks up at Prompto—mouth open, eyes wide with hurt. He throws his pencil down, rubbing at his cheeks with both hands. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just—”

“No, it’s cool,” Prompto says, holding up his hands, ready to put out this fire with his whole body if need be. “You’re stressed, I get it.” 

“That’s not the point,” says Noct, pulling on his bangs, hiding his face. “I shouldn’t take it out on you. This is just—important.”

“Totally get it, dude,” Prompto says, getting to his feet. “I was never great with the actual study sesh, huh?”

Yeah, it’s fine. He’s gotta be getting home anyway. The last train leaves in an hour, and he’s still got chores. The garbage is probably stinking by now, and if he leaves his porch lights on again the electricity bill’s gonna go up. If he can’t afford to pay they’ll kick him out, and maybe he’ll have to move somewhere far away and him and Noct will never get back to normal, things will just end in this weird funk and they’ll never be able to—

He’s mid-spiral when he reaches for his bag next to the table. When he grabs it, Noct’s hand is on his so fast he could swear there’s a blue glow.

“Wait,” he says, breathless. “You’re leaving?”

And the way Noct’s looking at him, eyes pleading, Prompto’s a statue where he stands. Compared to the chill of the air-conditioning, the warmth of Noct’s hand is the Infernian’s oven. 

“I mean,” he starts, stuttering his way backwards, “I just thought, you said—studying’s more important.”

“More important than Justice Monsters, yeah,” says Noct, laughing incredulously. “Not you.”

Prompto’s got no idea what to say to that, blinking dumbly.

“Okay so,” Prompto starts, voice pitching high and cracking on the vowels. He clears his throat. “I guess—you history, I’ll Justice Monster.”

Noct tilts his head, hand still covering Prompto’s. “C’mon, Prom, don’t you have to study too?”

Prompto gives a crippled laugh, taking his hand back to rub his neck. Noct stares after it like he didn’t even realize they were still touching. 

“Afraid my GPA’s a lost cause at this point,” says Prompto, skin buzzing like a bad sunburn, and probably just as flushed. “I’d much rather focus on my very prominent career as a giant fictional monster.”

Noct chuckles, but he’s watching Prompto very carefully, dark eyes prying.

“Gotta get the bro time in while we can, you know?” Gods, those damn eyes. Prompto can’t make his mouth stop moving. “Pretty soon you’re gonna be—”

Noct’s expression shifts on a dime, and it’s like breaking a spell. Prompto’s mouth clamps shut around whatever else wants to slink its way out.

Because there’s a million ways to fill in that blank, and none of them are gonna wipe that look off Noct’s face. He didn’t mean to bring it up, but soon, Noct’s gonna be busy with a lot more than just studying for finals. There’s already more meetings. He comes back from each one quieter than the last. And he doesn’t talk about his dad’s health, but Prompto’s seen the news. He’s read articles in the paper detailing every stumble, every errant cough. 

Nobody wants to say it, but all this—it won’t last forever.

“Prompto,” Noct says, like a plea, and Prompto’s chest is an ancient cave in some distant ruin, caving in around his lungs. “I’m not—I’m not going anywhere.”

Before he can stop himself, Prompto says, “You don’t know that.”

Noct sits next to him on the couch, grabs his wrist this time. Their knees are bumping, and gods, he’s looking so intense he could be boring holes. Prompto’s stone under that gaze, like looking straight at a daemon with those glowing red eyes, the ones on that history test they should be studying for. 

“I mean it,” says Noct, firm, so close he feels the out-breath.

Every doubt flies right out of Prompto’s head.

He has no idea when Noct leaned in, but Prompto blinks and his whole field of vision is pale skin and sparking eyes, the color of the sky right at dusk. He breathes in and smells cologne and hair gel, sharp and warm, cutting a line right to his brain. Memories of locker rooms and sleepovers and too many confusing thoughts for a teenage boy to parse.

And it’s not getting easier to understand any time soon, because Noct takes a breath, and suddenly there’s no distance between them anymore. 

And now the only thing Prompto’s sure about is _gods_ , Noct’s lips are soft.

Prompto’s mind goes blank as a page, worse than any test he’s ever taken. And lately, that’s saying something.

Doesn’t seem right that something Prompto’s imagined about a million times should only last a second. But that’s okay, though, because when they pull away they’re both laughing. Noct’s eyes are sparkling, his cheeks going a dusky pink. It’s pretty obvious neither of them know what the hell they’re doing—but something in that is comforting. The thought that maybe… they can learn together.

“See,” says Noct, laughing softly. “Now I gotta stick around.”

“Gods,” says Prompto, probably twenty shades of red, “after that, you better.”

“I can think of one way to make sure of it,” says Noct, thumb tracing circles into Prompto’s wrist.

Noct’s got this look on his face, the same one he gets before they skip class or trick Iggy into letting them borrow the Regalia.

Prompto tilts his head, wary. “How’s that?”

And then Noct’s smiling, a little uncertain, a whole lot hopeful.

He says, “How much do you know about the Crownsguard?” 

And hell if Prompto’s future doesn't get a whole lot brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> (you're the weight i'll always carry—through a world so cold, you'll never walk alone)


End file.
